


Happiness Is....

by elfin



Series: Knight In Shining Armour [6]
Category: Backstrom (TV)
Genre: Half-Sibling Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfin/pseuds/elfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex, dancing and a crazy man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness Is....

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Mentions of non-consensual sex as reference in the show

For once the water was hot, and Backstrom stood under it, face turned upwards, hoping to wash off the last three days of rain, mud and whatever else he’d trodden in while working a triple murder deep in the National Forest, helping out the Sheriff’s office. 

They’d finally returned to Portland in the early hours of the morning. He’d gone straight home and collapsed onto the couch, out like a light after seventy-two hours of very little sleep. The motel they’d stayed in had been the worst he’d ever known: walls and floors like paper, so much nefarious activity happening in the other rooms he’d been tempted to call in local law enforcement and have them arrest every other person staying there. But that wasn’t why he hadn’t slept. The lumpy bed in his room had seemed too big, too cold. He’d started getting used to having a warm body lying next to him, at least two nights in every three. He’d missed Valentine more than he was willing to admit to anyone. Niedermayer spent the third day making pointed comments each and every time he yawned, which made his already foul mood even worse, and their combined relief at making an arrest had as much to do with being able to leave as it did with closing the case.

When the shower room door opened, he was surprised. He hadn’t even realised Valentine was home, but there he was, dropping his red gown to the tiled floor and stepping into the shower with Backstrom, joining him under the water and leaning in for a kiss that was all mouth and tongue, obscenely deep, sending his blood to his dick and making him feel lightheaded.

‘God, I’ve missed you,’ he admitted when Val stepped back. He was a sight for sore eyes, water running over tempting flesh, dripping from those beautiful, long lashes. 

Valentine smiled, hand curling around Backstrom’s erection, forcing a moan from his throat. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than this. But a second later, wet heat surrounded him and his eyes snapped open to see Val on his knees, swallowing his dick deeper than Everett would have believed was physically possible.

‘Christ!’ He put a hand on the tiled wall to stop his knees from folding under him and his legs from giving way, turning off the water before Val drowned. This was on the long list of things they hadn’t done yet. ‘Val….’

The suction around him was exquisite, hot and wet. Valentine was doing something with his tongue which was causing every nerve in Everett’s spine to light up. His hands hovered above Val’s hair, not knowing the etiquette for receiving head from another man, until Val reached up and pulled on his wrists.

Backstrom got the message, combed his fingers into Val’s sopping hair, groaning when talented fingers slipped over his balls, stroking the tightening skin. His orgasm rushed up from his toes and down from his shoulders, crashing through him so unexpectedly that he barely had time to warn Val before he was coming down his throat. Val sucked on him, swallowed it all and licked him clean, sitting back on his ankles and looking up with the smuggest of expressions on his face.

‘Oh God….’ Backstrom took a couple of deep breaths, letting his pulse slow. ‘Wow….’

Valentine grabbed his hand. ‘It was just a blowjob.’

‘That wasn’t just anything. I’ve had blowjobs before and that….’

‘Don’t tell me, all the women you’ve been with spat?’

‘Amy spat.’

Val pulled a face. ‘That’s disgusting.’ He got to his feet. ‘Want to taste what you taste like?’

‘I don’t know. Do I?’ But he met Valentine halfway, licking into his mouth. It was salty and sweet at the same time. He rubbed the edge of Val’s lips with his thumb. ‘Do you… give a lot of those?’ Ten minutes ago, the idea of Val sucking other guys off was just one of those things gay men did. Having experienced it, Everett was maybe thinking it was something he wanted just for himself.

‘More often than not, guys trip over themselves to suck mine. But I give enough to know I'm very good at it.’

‘I wouldn’t disagree with that.’ He turned the water on again and washed himself, leaving Val under the shower when he stepped out to dry off.

He was dressed for work when Valentine came out, gloriously naked, towel wrapped around his hair. Backstrom reached for him, something wonderful in hugging him like that, bare skin when he was fully clothed. 

‘I gotta go in, question our suspect and pin the murder on him even if he didn’t do it.’

‘As if you would.’

‘You weren’t there. The accommodation was truly awful. I’d rather have stayed at the Bates Motel.’

‘I could have come with you.’

‘That would have been subtle. You’d have hated it. Better you stayed here and had free run of the barge.’

Valentine kissed his neck. ‘I missed you.’

~

Almond, Niedermayer and Paquet were already in when Backstrom arrived, strangely content, carrying a round of coffees and pastries. When he placed them on the sideboard in the kitchen, Almond looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. 

‘Did you buy coffee?’ Niedermayer checked. ‘Because you’ve never, ever bought coffee.’

‘I wanted to buy coffee, don’t look so surprised.’

‘Shocked is a better description, Sir.’

Backstrom picked one of the skinny lattes, marked with an S, and went through into his office before he could be further insulted. Two minutes later, Niedermayer poked his head around his office door.

‘I take it Valentine was happy to see you?’ he asked with a cheeky smile, Backstrom flipped him the bird but he just laughed. ’There’s an email from the chief. She wants us to attend a police charity gala tonight. Homicide were supposed to go but they’ve picked up a joint case with the FBI.’

‘Lucky them. So we're the backstop?’ Part of him wanted to tell the chief they weren’t anyone’s second choice, but he could see the hope in Niedermayer’s eyes and he knew how much Gravely loved posh nights out where she got to dress up. He nodded. ‘Fine. Tell her we’ll go.’

‘Thank you, Sir. The table’s for eight, so if you want to bring Valentine…?’ Niedermayer didn’t stay to hear the answer, left Backstrom to think about it, the bastard. A couple of minutes later, he called Val’s cell and relayed the invitation. 

Valentine accepted gracefully, asking, ’Am I dressing you again?’

‘Everyone’s a comedian this morning,’ he retorted and ended the call. Then he texted, ‘lv u’, stared at it for a second or two, and pressed Send before he could change his mind. 

~

He shaved, staring at himself in the mirror and wondering at how much younger it made him look. He combed his hair back, but when Valentine saw him, he messed it up again.

‘Doesn’t suit you too tidy.’

‘Says the man with half a dozen beauty products in his hair.’

Last time they’d done this, for Sampson’s charity gala, he hadn’t paid much attention to what Valentine had been wearing. He’d been distracted, trying to work out how he was going to play it with Amy who would surely be there. Tonight, when Val stepped out of his room, dressed up to the nines, black silk shirt under what looked like an expensive grey, pin-striped suit, he had Backstrom’s full and undivided attention.

An image popped unbidden into his mind; them in the kitchen, Val wearing that shirt and nothing else, bent over the table while Everett fucked into him.

‘You look…’ he faltered, mouth suddenly dry, ‘fabulous.’

Valentine blinked. ‘Thank you. You look good too, just not like yourself. It’s not black tie, is it?’

Backstrom chuckled. ‘And I care about the dress code, why?’

~

They didn’t make quite the same entrance that they did at Sampson’s. But Backstrom remembered what Niedermayer had said about that, and as they approached the door, he lifted Valentine’s arm and linked it with his own, so they really did look like Bond and Q as they walked through the thin crowd. Stopping one of the circulating waiting staff, he picked up a glass of sparkling grape juice for himself and champagne for his ‘date’. The word popped into his brain and he dismissed it instantly. He couldn’t recall Val using the word date ever.

They found their table where Backstrom’s team had assembled, Almond’s wife making up the group of eight, and Everett tried to recall if they’d met before. Almond introduced them, so he decided they hadn’t, which was a relief. 

There was a flash of hunger in Niedermayer’s eyes when he saw them, or rather when he saw Valentine, because Backstrom wasn’t delusional enough to think that his detective had any interest in him whatsoever. 

It was a good meal, with relaxed chat. The chief came over before dessert to thank them all for attending at such short notice and to apologise if they’d thought they were the bureau’s second choice. Backstrom noticed her glances at Valentine too, and wondered what she was thinking. She didn’t know who he was, as far as he knew. Maybe she thought he was with Gravely. She didn’t ask and he didn't tell. 

The band struck up half an hour after dinner, and they all went out onto the dance floor. For a while they kept it predictable, traditional. Valentine found a couple of like-minded guys to dance with, the way he always could. Backstrom remembered he’d pulled one of the waiters at Sampson’s and taken him back to the barge. Mercifully he’d slept through whatever they’d got up to, but he was awake for the guy leaving in the morning and the filthy, smug expression on Valentine’s face after he'd left.

The memory prodded at him for most of the night, until the band started to slow it down. He looked around for Val but couldn't see him. He was probably in a broom closet or a store room somewhere, with a six foot male model who was playing waiter until he got his big break. He noticed Gravely sitting alone at their table and headed over to ask her to dance. A tap on his shoulder make him turn.

Valentine moved into his arms like he was born to be there. He put one arm up along Everett’s back and joined their hands, letting Backstrom lead. He was a natural dancer, light on his feet.

‘I was sort of hoping…’ he murmured, and Backstrom drew him closer, putting his cheek on Val’s head when he rested it against his shoulder. He didn’t care, he realised, what the hell people thought. Most here wouldn’t give them a second glance. For some it would just confirm rumours and stories. There were going to be one or two raised eyebrows. It was ridiculously good to be dancing with Valentine in public.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, a couple of pieces before the band stopped playing. Valentine untangled himself slowly but kept his hand in Everett’s as they left the floor and headed back to their table. 

‘You two are so cute,’ Paquet squeaked when they sat back down. She and Niedermayer were the only two still around, and he was looking at Valentine like he wished he’d asked him to dance.

Backstrom was still trying to work out how to respond when Val turned to him, surprising him by murmuring, ‘Can we maybe go home?’

His first thought was that something was up, that Val had seen someone he didn’t want to see, or wasn’t feeling well, but when he met his gaze he realised it wasn’t any of those things. 

‘Yes. Absolutely. Right now.’

~

Somehow they made it onto the barge before stripping off one another’s clothes. Jackets and shoes got left on the steps, pants dropped in the doorway of Val’s bedroom. 

‘I want you to make love to me,’ Valentine told him, words which went straight to Everett’s dick. ‘I want you inside me, on top of me, all around me….’

‘Stop talking or I’ll come right now.’

Val grinned and unbuttoned both their shirts, pushing Everett's from his shoulders, pulling his own off over his head. Backstrom recalled his fantasy from earlier and almost stopped him, but he wanted skin against skin, wanted Valentine naked, bared utterly for him. Where the hell this had come from, he had no idea. The night Val had started this, he’d barely been able to put his hands on him. 

‘Where’s the… stuff?’ 

Valentine knelt on the bed, pulled the red tube from between the mattress and a pillow, and handed it back to him. ‘Come on, I’ll talk you through it.’

The last time they’d done this, Val had been in control, now he was handing that over and for a moment Everett had no idea what to do.

‘Put some on your finger and put your finger in my ass.’ It was almost shocking, the vulgarness of it, and it sounded so clinical. The last thing he wanted was for this to be cold after the intimacy of the evening. So he lay down behind Val, easing him on to his front, kissing and stroking his shoulders and back, working his way downwards so that by the time he was nibbling the skin over Val’s tailbone, he was almost purring. Only then did he squeeze some of the lube onto his middle finger while Val helpfully bent one knee up, giving better access.

Everett had never even done this to himself. Finding the right place turned out to be easy enough, but there was resistance against even his fingertip and he couldn’t imagine forcing his dick through that. 

‘It’s okay,’ Val assured, ‘just push gently.’

He did as he was instructed and suddenly he was sliding inside. Val grunted softly, pushed back, and Everett knew enough of the basics to reach for his prostate, finding it with his fingertip, tapping it before pulling back and pushing in again. It didn’t take much for Val to relax under him. The last thing he wanted to do was to betray in any way the trust that was being shown to him and he ignored the first couple of times Val told him he was ready.

Finally he pulled his finger out and squeezed more of the lube onto his dick than he probably needed to.

‘If I hurt you -‘

‘You won’t. Just go slow.’

It was difficult to find an angle that worked, but when he did, when he pushed past the resisting muscle and pressed into Val’s body, the sensation was overwhelming. He flattened his hand on Val’s stomach, pressing him back, pushing forward with his hips until he was all the way inside.

Val breathed, ‘That’s perfect,’ and covered Everett’s hand with his own. ‘How do you feel so good?’

Easing out, pressing in, he set up a lazy rhythm, biting his own tongue to keep it from being over too soon. He kissed Val’s shoulders and neck, dragging fingernails over his nipples, driving him slowly crazy until he was begging Everett to make him come. Backstrom wrapped a tight hand around his cock and felt Val's climax rip through him, triggering his own.

Neither of them moved for a minute or two. Everett softened and slipped out, but Valentine reached around and pressed a hand to the small of his back, told him to stay. So he settled, half covering his lover’s body with his own, face in his neck and arms around him, and they fell asleep like that.

~

He was woken in the middle of the night by Valentine sliding out from under him and getting out of bed. He listened, worried for a moment he’d done something to hurt him, but the toilet flushed and Val came back to bed. He lay on his side facing Backstrom and for a few minutes they stared at one another in silence.

‘Are you worried what people are going to say tomorrow?’ Val asked in a whisper, and Everett shook his head. 

‘I don’t care.’

‘Could you get in trouble?’

‘For dancing with you? No. Not much, anyway. No one actually believes you’re my brother. Most people already think we’re a couple.’

‘Why does no one believe I’m your brother?’

‘Do I really need to answer that?’ Valentine fell silent again, and eventually, Everett stroked his fingers through the hair at his temple and told him to go to sleep.

~

Backstrom was up first, showered, and was filling the kettle when Valentine wrapped his arms around him from behind and pressed his cheek against his bare back.

‘Morning, beautiful.’ He rested his hand over Val’s arm, realising he wasn’t actually naked. A glance back and he saw the black silk of his shirt from last night. Turning, he leaned against the sink and ran his hands down Val’s sides, expensive silk over soft skin. He was hard in a second. 

Valentine smiled, smug and happy. ‘Last night was wonderful.’ His fingers skimmed Everett’s chest and stomach. ‘Thank you, for letting me be your date.’

‘I should be thanking you.’ Everett’s hands seemed to be moving of their own accord, fingertips tracing the edges of Val’s shirt, mesmerised and aroused by the black line against pink skin. 

‘Much as I would love you to do to me whatever filthy thing you’re thinking of right now, your phone’s ringing, and someone’s just walked up on deck.’ Backstrom glanced up just as there was a knock on the door. ‘It’s locked,’ Val reminded him, because their days of leaving it open for anyone to walk in at anytime were long gone.

Whoever it was gave up and left after a minute or so, and his phone stopped yelling at him too.

‘I should get to work and face the music.’

‘No regrets?’

‘Are you insane? No.’ He didn’t want to take his hands from Val’s body. He wanted spend the day hanging around the barge with him just wearing that shirt, driving himself crazy with want until he was ready to push him face first over the table and do to him again what he’d done last night with so much reverence. ‘Please go away, I don’t have the strength to stop if you stay standing there.’

Val made like he was considering it, erection proud, fingers stroking his chin. Backstrom growled, surged forward and caught his mouth, pushing his tongue inside, grabbing him around the waist, arms under the silk. Val squeaked in surprise then pressed right back, fingernails raking gently over his back, getting one leg somehow up around Everett’s hip, dicks sliding together, separated by denim. 

Val unzipped his fly, reached in and he felt the cool of the air and the heat of a hand. Backstrom got one palm flat under Val’s thigh, wondering for a second if he had the physical strength to lift him and deciding not. Instead, he just pulled him closer and between them they found an angle and a pulsing rhythm that pushed them over the edge together, messy and loud.

‘I haven’t had this much sex since I was at college.’

He felt the huff of Valentine’s breath in the crook of his neck. ‘Don’t lie. This is the most sex you’ve had ever.’

‘You wish.’ They separated carefully, reluctantly. ‘And now I need to change my jeans.’ Val followed him towards his room, but Everett stopped him with a hand flat on his chest. ‘If you and I get near a bed, I’ll never get to work.’

Val shrugged off the shirt and stood before his naked. ‘I’m showering alone, then?’

‘Yes. Definitely. Be gone with you, siren.’

He did, but he left the door open, and when Backstrom had changed his jeans he lingered at the door of the bathroom for a minute, watching him, imagining him doing wonderful things with his lathered hands. He had to drag himself away, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it off the barge before lunch.

~

He tried to convince himself that no one would have even noticed him dancing with his housemate slash brother slash lover at the gala last night. 

But when he stepped off the elevator and into the bullpen, his whole team cheered and clapped, and he tried not to wish the floor would open up and swallow him, especially when he glanced towards his office and saw Amy standing with her back against the wall, waiting for him like some kind of executioner.

‘Does she want to rip my balls off?’ he asked Niedermayer, who looked as if he was undecided. ‘I should have told her sooner.’

‘Possibly, Sir. But then again, one might say it’s none of her business any longer.’

He was buoyed by that, and it gave him the courage to go ahead and face her, hanging up his coat and perching on the edge of his desk.

’So, is this business or personal?’

She didn’t answer, and for a moment she just looked at him with a bemused expression on her face. Then, finally, it burst from her, ‘Valentine?! You’re sleeping with Valentine?’

He shrugged. ‘On and off.’

‘From what I hear about the gala last night, it looked like more than on and off.’

‘We shared a couple of dances, that’s all.’

‘Slow dances.’

‘The fast ones were taken.’

‘I didn’t even know you were interested in men.’

‘I’m not. It’s just him. I don’t even fancy Niedermayer.’

‘But Valentine does, doesn’t he?’

‘Valentine fancies anything with a penis. I am proof of that. Why are we having this conversation, anyway? Why is who I sleep with any of your business?’

She stated to pace, which was never a good sign. ‘After Rocha and I split up -‘

‘You and Rocha split up?’

‘Three months ago. I… ended it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it wasn’t working.’ She had that coy expression on her face, the one she got when she actually wanted him to pry. So he didn’t.

‘Okay, so, after you and Rocha split….’

‘I thought maybe you and I could give it another shot.’

He could barely believe what he was hearing. Ten years of hoping, wishing, fantasising that he’d heard those exact words from her. And here she was, saying she wanted him back, and he had no idea how to feel about it now.

She closed the gap between them, hand settling just below the open button of his shirt. He could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage. ’I assume you and Valentine aren’t serious.’

‘Sir!’ Niedermayer broke the spell and she stepped back in a hurry. ‘Body in an alley off 7th Avenue.’

Backstrom turned and grabbed his coat. ‘Right. you’re with me. Gravely, Almond, you too.’

He left without saying another word to his ex-fiancée, and without a glance back in her direction.

~

Niedermayer drove for ten minutes before pulling into the parking lot of an IHOP. 

Backstrom looked around. ’I thought you said it was in an alley off 7th?’

‘I lied. We… lied.’

He was entirely confused. ’Why?’

‘We wanted to get you away from Amy.’

He thought he should be angry, but couldn’t find it within him to be anything but grateful. ‘Sneaky bastards. Come on, now we’re here I might as well buy us breakfast, being as mine was very rudely interrupted by a horny gay guy.’

‘Actually more detail than we need, Sir,’ Gravely told him as they stepped down from the SUV. 

He hadn’t been to an IHOP in over a year. Once they were seated in a booth next to the window, he ordered the healthiest thing on their menu that still involved pancakes, and let the others order stacks of carbs, meat and syrup.

‘I can handle Amy,’ Everett reassured them once their waitress - Candy - had skipped off back to the counter with their choices.

‘We don’t want you to make the wrong decision,’ Niedermayer hedged, and Gravely asked, 

‘She was there to get you back, wasn’t she?’

‘Ever since we split up, getting her back was all I thought about. I do love her.’

Gravely and Niedermayer were instantly on his case. ‘But Sir, she did nothing to help,’ and, ’she just wants the new you.’

He looked with amusement at the faces gazing at him like kids watching the end of Bambi. ‘I love Val. With everything that I am. And as long as he’s interested, I’m not going to betray him with anyone, let alone the woman who broke my heart and only wants me back now I am, as you say, the new me. Backstrom two-point-o. A changed man. Amy wanted me to be someone different, but Valentine was the reason I am.’

They looked happier by the time their waitress brought their order over. Backstrom was touched that they cared about his personal life that much, although he suspected Niedermayer’s reasons weren’t entirely altruistic. 

They’d just finished eating when his phone rang. It was Moto, with an actual crime scene for them to attend.

~

Backstrom finally got back to the barge at gone midnight. It was silent, devoid of life, and with only a slight pang of jealousy, he curled up on the bunk and closed his eyes. When his phone started to ring he could have sworn he'd only just fallen asleep, even though the clock claimed he'd actually been out for over two hours. 

He answered the call with a half-asleep, ’What?’, expecting Niedermayer or Gravely to reply. Instead, he got some strung-out duty sergeant asking if he was really Lieutenant Everett Backstrom of the SCU. 

When he confirmed that he was, he was then asked if Gregory Valentine really was his brother. He confirmed that too, and promised that, in the morning, he’d prove it by having the luckless sergeant demoted for calling him in the middle of the night to ask stupid questions. 

It was then that he was given the news that Valentine was in custody, being held in connection with 'an altercation at a night club’, and that he’d begged the sergeant to call Lieutenant Backstrom and tell him his brother needed him. 

In the past, Everett would have left him there to stew overnight in holding. But now, he just couldn't. 

~

The Downtown Portland police precinct was barely organised chaos. Two-thirty on a Sunday morning, the place was heaving with tired cops, singing drunks and pissed off prostitutes. Backstrom cut through the crowd by waving his badge around, and finally a uniform took him to holding; two overcrowded pens filled with surprisingly subdued petty criminals, at least compared to the noise upstairs. Once in holding, Backstrom knew from experience, they usually accepted that the gig was well and truly up for the night, and guilty men tended to get some rest where they could.

Valentine was sitting in the corner closest to the door, leaning against the bars, dejected but unhurt. Apart from a couple of obscene jibes sent his way, he was more or less being left alone. Something in the set of his shoulders, maybe, was acting as a warning that he wasn't jailbait, or a virgin when it came to defending himself. He was, however, more than relieved to see Backstrom.

'Let him out.' The uniform looked uncertain at that point, but Backstrom was in no mood to haggle. 'Let him out, or by morning you'll be back walking the streets with nothing but a taser and a rookie.'

Valentine was out of the pen in a flash, looking up at Backstrom with tired eyes from under long lashes dark with mascara. Far from being angry, Everett just wanted to hug him. 

’Thanks.’

'What did you do?’ he asked gently.

'Me? Nothing!’ He sounded oddly genuine. 'I was attacked.'

'So why were you picked up?'

'I was defending myself!'

'Hey!' A shout came from the far corner other holding pen. 'That's my son! You can't take my son!'

Val pointed. ’That's the lunatic who attacked me.' 

Too exhausted to deal with it, Backstrom called Moto and told the uniform he'd take the other one too. Half an hour later, Moto was escorting the crazy man, claiming Val was his son, to an SCU interview room, and Backstrom was buying Valentine coffee at an all-night cafe between the precinct and the bureau. Somewhere on the way over he’d even given Val his coat, which wasn’t like him at all. 

In the queue, he asked, ’Tell me what happened.'

'I was just dancing, minding my own business. I heard someone shouting and ignored it, because there are at least five domestics a night in that place. The next thing I know, that guy's got a hand in my hair and is dragging me backwards, yelling at me that I'm his son and how dare I run away from him. I was unnerved, I twisted round and punched him. That’s when the barman called the cops, and as they like to do on a Saturday night, they just cuffed both of us, threw us in the back of an already overcrowded wagon and dumped us in holding. I thought I was going to be there all night.'

Backstrom bought him a muffin too, feeling ridiculously protective. He didn't say any of the things that he wanted to say, and they walked in a comfortable silence to the SCU, shoulders occasionally bumping. 

He was surprised to see Niedermayer and Gravely in the bullpen. 'Don't you ever go home?'

'Moto called us. He thought Valentine was in trouble.'

Backstrom sighed in despair. 'That explains Niedermayer, it doesn't explain you, Gravely.'

'We were out together. And no, not in that way. We'd been to a comedy gig and we're having late drinks.'

Niedermayer looked worried sick until Backstrom put him out of his misery. 'Val's fine. He’s in the bathroom!’

‘Good. That’s a relief.’ Backstrom wondered if he should just let them sleep together so that he could get it out of his system, especially when Valentine wandered in and he thought for a second that Niedermayer was going to examine him for injury. 

‘Are you all right?’

Val nodded. ’Apart from stinking of sweat and desperation from holding, I'm fine. Thank you.' He wasn't milking it, which was a surprise. 

'So where's this lunatic who thinks Val's his son?'

~

Backstrom closed the door of the interview room and dropped the slim file on to the table top. They had the guy's name, address and date of birth from his driving licence, and not much else. Had Paquet been in, they would have had his full life history by now, but she wasn't and it didn't seem important enough to drag her out of bed too.

'Edward Corbet, 959 Maple Drive, Las Vegas. What are you doing in Portland, Mr Corbet?'

'I'm looking for my son! And I found him!' He didn't look like a danger to anyone. According to his driving licence, he was fifty five years old, but he looked older, haggard. He had a bruise forming just below his left eye, presumably where Val had punched him. 

'The man you attacked in that club? He's not your son.'

'How do you know? He's David, I'm telling you!'

'His name's Valentine. He's my brother.'

Corbet seemed to collapse in on himself, shoulders falling forward, head dropping. Backstrom was about to ask why he'd imagined Val was his kid when the door opened and Val stuck his head around it.

'Let me talk to him.'

Tonight wasn't going to get any better so he shrugged. 'Why not?' 

Val took the seat opposite Corbet. 'Edward?' He raised his head and obviously, in the stark light of the room, he realised his mistake.

‘Oh. I'm so sorry young man. You're not David. I can see that now.'

'What made you think I was?'

'You looked like him in the dark. Same hair, same movement.'

Pulling a second chair from the corner, Backstrom sat down next to him. 'When did you last see David?'

'January 2005.'

'Ten years ago?' Backstrom caught Val's surprised glance and watched as he reached out to touch the back of Corbet's wrist, almost but not stopping him, ready to break the guy’s hand if he tried anything. 'Do you have a photo?'

'In my wallet.'

Gravely brought his wallet in a couple of seconds later, and Corbet showed them. 

'He's my age in this,' Valentine pointed out. 'He'd be mid to late thirties by now, surely?'

'We had an argument when I found out he was... like you.'

Val beat him to the obvious guess. 'Gay?'

Corbet nodded. 'I was so angry. I yelled at him, told him to get out of the house and to never come back. I meant it then, God help me, but now I don't care. I can hardly believe the things I said to him. It was a shock then but now I don't even remember why I was upset. I don't care who he's with, I just want to see him again.'

Backstrom was actually starting to feel sorry for the guy. He was thinking that maybe they should help, try to locate David. He was about to ask what made Corbet think his son was in Portland, when Val’s whole demeanour suddenly changed. He sat back, folded his arms close to his chest and asked in a voice that was devoid of sympathy,

‘When you thought I was him, why did you try to drag me out of the club by my hair?’

It was like a switch had been thrown. Corbet sprang out of his chair with a growl, surprising both of them, reaching for Val’s throat, fingers and thumbs spread wide. Val was fast, kicking back his own chair and grabbing the Corbet’s wrists before he could get close, forcing them down onto the table and holding him there even as he struggled and swore. In the same moment, Niedermayer was in through the door, gun drawn, apparently ready to shoot the old man. 

With a glare at his detective, Backstrom stole the cuffs from his belt and secured them around Corbet’s wrists, nodding at Val when he was okay to let go. Pushing Corbet back into his chair with a harsh, ‘sit down!’ he fastened the cuffs to the metal ring in the table top. 

‘It was going so well too,’ he muttered at Val, who shrugged an apology and left the room. Backstrom understood. ‘I think I know why your son left home and hasn’t been back in a decade,’ he told Corbet, before glancing at Niedermayer. They needed to have a long talk about over-protectiveness but now absolutely wasn’t the time. Instead, he ordered, ’Go buy him breakfast or something,’ just to get rid of him.

‘It’s unnatural,’ Corbet spat, once the madman with the pistol had left the room. 

Backstrom fired back, ‘You’re unnatural. So your son’s gay, so what? The whole world’s coming out these days. Why does having a gay son bother fathers so much anyway? Is it something about not continuing the family line? Knowing you’re not going to have little grandkids to bounce on your ageing knee? Everything that can go wrong in childbirth? All the dangers out there in the world? I’d just be grateful to have a kid who was healthy and alive!’

Corbet sneered. ‘You say that guy who was in here is your brother? You’re don’t care that he’s a fruit?’

‘A fruit?!’ He considered making a joke about bananas but decided against it. He leaned forward, hands spread on the table top. ‘I’m you. I’m an antiquated bigot who hates himself. My whole life has been disappointing and I plan to to live vicariously through my son. But one day he tells me he’s gay, and my hopes for grandchildren, trips to the zoo and stories by the fire, are destroyed. So I disown him. But as time goes on, I realise how lonely I am, how much everyone hates me, so I go in search of the child I threw out of the house just because he likes penises instead of pussy. But he doesn’t want to be found.’ Corbet said nothing, just glared at him. ‘I’m charging with you assault. Maybe a couple of months behind bars and you’ll change your mind about gay guys.’

With a wicked smile, he left him to spend the rest of the night chained to the table, until someone came in to take him away.

Niedermayer had indeed taken Valentine out to breakfast, so Backstrom crashed out on the couch in his office, kicking off his shoes and pulling the blanket over him. It was cold, and vague thoughts of Niedermayer sitting across from Valentine, sharing pancakes and laughter, kept crawling into his head. He wasn’t sure sleep was going to come.

Then his office door opened and closed again, and a couple of seconds later Val lifted the blanket and lay down with him, squirming until Backstrom was forced to turn on to his side to accommodate him. He wrapped one arm over him and pulled him back against his chest. 

‘Stop wriggling,’ he murmured.

‘Can we have sex in your office?’

Backstrom smiled, half-certain Val was kidding but not one hundred percent sure. ‘No.’

‘Spoil sport.’

‘Go to sleep.’

The chief found them three hours later, and didn’t have the heart to wake either of them.

~

Backstrom watched Valentine pottering around the barge, collecting up the odd antique here and there, presumably for sale to the highest bidder and the biggest sucker. They’d showered, changed, and Everett thought he should go back into the office to make sure crazy Corbet wasn’t yelling police harassment for whatever reason. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave without getting the answer to the question that had been plaguing him since the early hours of the morning.

He had to ask. ’Do you want to sleep with Niedermayer?’ 

Valentine stopped what he was going and turned, ass against the table, nodding slowly. ’So that’s what you’ve been brooding about for the last hour.’

’Where did he take you this morning?’

‘Joe’s Diner. It’s the only place open around there at four on a Sunday morning. You were the one who told him to buy me breakfast.’

‘Did he do anything inappropriate?’

Valentine sighed softly. ‘He told me Amy was waiting for you this morning and that she wants you back.’

Backstrom tried to decide if that counted as inappropriate. ‘Did he… try to do anything… else?’

‘What? Kiss me, hold my hand over the table, make out with me in the bathroom?’ Everett knew when he was being teased. ‘No. He was a perfect gentleman. I think he thinks you’ll rip his balls off and drop kick him in to the river if he touches me.’

‘He’s right.’

‘Therefore he’s never going to do anything other than overreact whenever he thinks I’m in danger. Between the two of you, I feel like the safest guy in Portland.’

‘You didn’t answer my question.’

‘Okay, yes. I want to sleep with Peter Niedermayer. But I won’t. Because you mean more to me than he does and I won’t do that to you. Now answer mine.’

‘You haven’t asked me anything.’

‘Do you want to get back together with Amy?’

It was interesting that Valentine had to look away when he asked that, as if he didn’t want to see the answer before Everett said it. Closing the gap that seemed to have opened up between them, he brought Val’s head around with one finger. ‘No.’

‘That simple? No? She’s all you’ve thought about since I’ve known you.’

‘Up until about a year ago. Then my cocky, gay, half-brother sat in my lap and told me not to let go of him.’

Valentine reached for Everett’s fingers. ’You can’t give up a second chance with Amy for me.’

‘How long have you known me? When have I ever given up anything for anyone?’

Val half-smiled. ‘Never. Definitely not drinking. Or smoking. Or a strict diet of fried things….’

‘That should tell you all you need to know. I mean it when I say that I love you. Don’t ever doubt that.’

Valentine squeezed Backstrom’s fingers. ‘When was the last time you slept with a prostitute?’

‘Around the same time you stopped bringing your tricks home with you.’

Val stared at their hands for a time, then looked up. ‘I’m not going to sleep with other men anymore. I’m not promising no hook ups in clubs… but you know I’m always safe and you’ll know if I don’t come home something’s wrong.’

‘You don’t have to give up anything-‘

‘I know. I’ll know you’ll never ask me to, I get that now. But I want to. When I actually go to sleep, I want it to be next to you and no one else. I want to have a relationship, and it suits my world view that’s it with you.’

Everett chuckled. ’You mean, it’s fucked up?’

‘Slightly, us being related and all. I never could see myself as one half of a loving, monogamous couple with a house and a picket fence.’ 

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘That really isn’t you.’

‘But with you, here, like this. It seems very me.’

‘It’s very us. You know, before you, I honestly believed I would never have… love, or passion, in my life again. I thought Amy was the beginning and the end. But she wasn’t and she isn’t. Even if you and I only last another two days, I wouldn’t give up those two days for the rest of my life with her. It’s you. I want you. However wrong, or perverse, or illegal, or whatever else it is.’

‘It isn’t wrong and it isn’t perverse.’

‘I didn’t mean because you’re a guy-‘

‘I know what you meant.’ Valentine got to his feet, bringing himself up against Backstrom, tilting his head. ‘And I don’t care.’ Val kissed him, slowly, deliberately. ‘Don’t go back to work. It’s Sunday. Let’s spend it in bed.’

Backstrom gave it a moment’s thought. Just a moment. Then he grabbed the base of Val’s t-shirt and lifted it off over his head.


End file.
